Hanging By A Moment
by purplepagoda
Summary: Contains a few spoilers from season 8. What happens when Ziva and Tony have lunch on their day off? Ziva reveals a deadly secret that will change everything. What does her secret have to do with Mr. Miami?
1. Holding On

She sits across the table from him. She takes a sip of her drink, and finally asks.

"It is our day off, why did you ask me to lunch? You feel that you do not see enough of me at work?"

"Why can't you just be honest with me?"

"About what?"

"Mister Fabulous."

She nods. "Why would I? Have you given me a reason to?"

"I share with you."

"Sometimes things need to remain unsaid."

"And sometimes all the cards need to be laid out on the table."

"Why? So you can tell me that you don't think he is good enough? So you can tease me, and say that I am oblivious to his flaws? Give me a reason."

"I am asking you. This game is getting old, I am getting tired."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"I am not trying to act childish. I want you to tell me about...Ray," he manages to choke out.

"No."

"Why not? Is he so perfect that you don't want to share anything about him?"

"Tony I do not want to talk about it. Why can't you just leave it alone?" her tone changes. He notices her look away. She stares out the window, instead of looking away, knowing her eyes will give her away.

He touches her hand, "Look at me."

She shakes her head, and her bangs fall into her eyes.

"Why can't you just talk to me? I just want you to be happy."

"I just want you to tell me the truth," she counters.

"I guess that is fair enough," he agrees.

She looks at him. He notices the tears welling up in her eyes. "Are you really going to tell the truth? For once in your life you're going to step out from behind the facade, and just tell me how you feel? You accuse me of withholding things from you, but you are just as guilty as I am."

He brushes the hair out of her eyes. He tucks it behind her ear.

"We both know that mistakes have been made. Sometimes I am my own worst enemy, but you are the same way."

"I can admit that."

"Why are you afraid to tell me about this guy? I just want you to be happy."

"The same reason you won't tell me the truth."

He nods. He looks into her eyes. He swallows hard, and tries not to allow himself to wonder why she is on the verge of tears. He squeezes her hand.

"The truth is that I want you to be happy. I don't want to say or do anything to keep you from that. I have done that before, and I was wrong."

"You were right."

"Are you afraid that I will see something you don't?"

She purses her lips. "No I am afraid that if I am happy you won't be."

"You shouldn't worry about me."

"Tony, just tell me. Why is it that your skin crawls, and your voice raises an octave every time I mention him?"

He clenches his jaw, fighting the words. He looks at the table, instead of her eyes.

She tips his chin up. "I want the truth. I am tired of all the crap that you try to sell me. Just want I want you to tell me the truth."

"Ziva I am afraid that the truth will hurt you."

"Hurt me? This game, this is driving a wedge between us. Our partnership is suffering. I would hate to lose everything, because you are too scared to just tell me the truth."

His face turns red, and his nostrils flare. He takes a deep breath, but he can no longer control him. The words spew out like venom, "I don't want you to be with him."

"Why?" she asks very calmly.

"I don't want you to be with anyone."

"You would prefer that I spend the rest of my life alone?" she goads.

"No Ziva I don't."

"So why I am ever with is good enough?"

"They're not me."

"They're not you?"

"You seem so calm about this. Why aren't you furious at me? Did he break up with you? Did you end it?"

"Tony I am calm because I have been waiting for this. I have been waiting for you to finally admit the truth. The truth that I have known far longer than I wanted to. You cannot deny something that is in front of your face everyday. At some point you have to face the elephant in the room, before it is too late."

"I want you to be happy. I don't want you to feel like you should have to hide things from me. I think that you should be with whoever makes you happy. I don't want you to be afraid to hurt my feelings. I don't want you to miss an opportunity because I..." he stops before the words spill out.

"Because why?"

"Because I can find flaws with anyone. No one is ever going to be smart enough, or tan enough, or tall enough, or rich enough for you. I think you deserve to have the perfect guy."

"By your standards the only person I can ever be with is Jesus himself. I don't mean that to sound blasphemous, but..."

"It's sort of true."

"I doubt that even he would be good enough. Am I right?"

"Yes," Tony nods.

"That wasn't what you were going to say though, was it?"

"Does it matter? You are in love with this Ray guy. I don't want to mess with that."

"Things are not always what they seem. We keep secrets from each other, to protect one another, but we really, just hurt each other more. We do not have all the time in the world to figure out what we want. We do not have all the time in the world to say the things that we need to say. All we have is right now. We have what we have, in this moment, and that is all," the tears threaten to flow over the brim.

"Ziva where is this coming from? Why all of a sudden are you demanding to know the truth?"

"I am tired of waiting to hear what I need to hear."

"And what is that?"

"I need you to say it. I need you to tell me the truth, so I know that I am not crazy. So that I know I have chosen the right thing."

"I can't take it back if I say it. We are partners..." he begins.

She cuts him off, "We will not always be partners."

"Are you planning on leaving me?" he questions.

"Not voluntarily."

"Is Vance shipping you off again?"

"Answer me damn it! I want the truth," a single tear falls down her cheek. She ignores it. She doesn't try to wipe it away so that he can't see. He looks in her eyes, and suddenly it's clear something is very wrong.

"I love you," he admits.

"Thank you."

"You can't say thank you to that."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "Can we talk about something else?"

"Yes," she nods tears still falling.

"Will you please tell me about Ray?"

Her voice weakens, "He is a doctor," she reveals as a large lump forms in her throat.

"A doctor? What kind of doctor? A dentist? A vet? A neurosurgeon?"

"An oncologist."

"I am assuming that his work is not dinner conversation?"

"It is all we talk about," she responds.

"Why? Why would you want to talk about his work?"

"When I told about him, you assumed that I was seeing him."

"You aren't?"

"I am not dating him."

"Just having sex with him?"

"I am not."

"So you aren't seeing him?"

"Not personally."

"How are you seeing him?"

She swallows hard. "Professionally."

"You are working undercover?"

She shakes her head, and more tears fall.

"Ziva what are you telling me?"

"I needed you to tell me, because, I don't know how much longer I will be..." she stops.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," she says through tears.

He slides out of his booth. He walks around the table, to the side she is sitting at. He slides into the booth beside her. He envelopes her in a hug. She doesn't resist. He pets her hair.

"How bad?" he inquires.

"There is no cure."

"An operation?"

She shakes her head, "Inoperable."

"You can't leave me," he chokes out, trying to hold back his own tears.

"You will be ok."

"No. I can't live without you," he argues.

"You will have to try," she insists.

"Who else knows?"

"No one. You are the first person I've told."

"Take it back," he begs.

"I can't."

"You can't leave me."

"I don't have much of a choice Tony, I'm dying."


	2. Don't Let Go

He stares at her silently. He holds her in his arms. He didn't know what else to do, he had never seen her like this. She was openly crying, in public. Then again, it wasn't everyday that you revealed to your partner that you were dying. For once she doesn't push him away, instead she clings tightly to him. She rests her head on his shoulder.

"Ziva..." he begins.

"Don't let go," she asks him in a tiny, hopeless voice.

His hand rest on the back of her head. He whispers in her ear, "Never," he promises.

"You will have to let go of me, at some point," she reminds him.

"Says who?"

"I am saying so. You will not spend the rest of your life mourning me," she tells him.

"I can't promise you that. I will never get over you. What I said in Somalia, that is true. I can't live without you."

"You can," she argues.

"But, I don't want to."

"Tony..."

He loosens his grip on her. "Sometimes I am slow. Sometimes I am an idiot. I have never been good at making things work. My relationship with you, is the longest one I have ever had with a women. I was afraid to screw that up, I was afraid to tell you the truth, because losing you, would kill me."

"Don't say that," she begs.

"Ziva..."

"Yes?" she answers wiping away tears.

"I want to spend the rest of your life with you. I don't want to look back, and regret this. I want you. I have always wanted you."

"I am dying," she reminds him.

"I don't care. I want to spend whatever time you have left, with you."

"You are serious?"

"Yes."

"This will not be easy. I do not know how long I have. Whatever we have, it is not going to be a fairy tale."

"It doesn't matter," he tells her.

She lets go of him. "Tony this is serious. There is going to come a point, where I am probably not going to be able to..." she trails off.

"I will take care of you."

"I do not want to burden you with that responsibility."

"It isn't a burden. It would be a burden if you never told me, and I had to carry around the weight of knowing that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"How will this work?"

"You will come stay with me."

"Just like that? I am going to come stay with you?"

"Yes."

"If we had forever, what would it be like?"

"Let me paint you a picture," he offers.

"Please."

"I would ask you to marry me, and you would say that you had been waiting your whole life for the right person to come along. You would tell me only if you could still sleep with a gun under your pillow. I would agree to that. I would agree to anything, just for you to be mine. We would get married, in a small ceremony, on the beach. You would wear your hair down, and curly. We would not have sex on the beach, because you would tell me that it is not as romantic as I picture it in my head. So instead we would spend our honeymoon in a nice air conditioned hotel room. Later I would surprise you one night, with a key to our new house. You would throw dishes at me, and tell me that you were not ready to move, that there was nothing wrong with where we were at. Eventually you would see that the apartment is not big enough for three. So we would move to a house in the suburbs. I would ask for a dog, you would tell me that a baby was enough for us to handle at once. I would soon realize that you were right, that a dog would not survive in the same house, as our child. We would fill the house in the suburbs with beautiful babies, and laughter. Our children, they would grow up, and leave us. We would look to recapture our youth. We would take on a couple undercover assignments, only to discover each other, and why we fell in love in the first place. So we would retire, for the most part. And we would grow old together. We would sit together on the front porch, on porch swing. We would laugh about how when we were younger we never saw the appeal of a porch swing, but now that we were older, and the arthritis had set in, it made sense. So each morning we would sit together on our porch swing, and watch the sun come up."

She stares at him in disbelief.

He looks back into her dark eyes. He finds her impossible to read, "Say something," he begs.

"You have been thinking about this for a long time?"

"Yes," he nods.

"You know what color the house would be, how many bedrooms? That I would eventually cave in, about the dog,"

He finishes her thought, "When the children were half-way grown. The two of them would fight like cats, and dogs, but be extremely close."

"Only two?"

"How many children do you want?"

"Until recently I had never given it much thought."

"And now?"

"I would like to have four."

"Four? That would be complete chaos."

"When have our lives ever not been complete chaos? We thrive on chaos. In reality it doesn't really matter, because I am never going to have any."

"We do thrive on chaos."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Wherever you want," he answers, "Is it wrong for me to hope that by some miracle, that could happen?"

"You wouldn't be you, if you didn't."

"So where do we go from here?"

She smiles devilishly. "Atlantic city."

"What? You're feeling lucky?" he asks in confusion.

"I have nothing left to lose," she answers.

"That's almost four hours away."

"Not when I drive."

"Why do you want to go to Atlantic City?"

"What do you think?"

"It is hard to tell with you."

She whispers the answer in his ear.

He sits back, and looks at her. "Wouldn't that break the rules?"

She shrugs, "Does it matter?"

"Are you on drugs?"

She shakes her head, "No. I have nothing to lose, nothing to prove."

"So go skydiving?"

"I have been skydiving. All I can do now, is live. Are you afraid?"

He answers without hesitation. "No."

She holds out her hand, palm up. He drops his keys in her hand.


	3. Only Forever

She stares at all of her options. She looks over to him. He smiles at her.

"Which one?"

"You pick," she insists.

"You're going to let me pick? You have to live with it for the rest of your life."

She shoots him a look.

"Sorry. That was a very poor choice of words."

"Just pick one."

The jeweler on the other side of the counter watches them. Tony points to one, and the jeweler pulls them out.

"There is a matching wedding band," he adds.

Tony holds up the shiny ring, "What do you think?"

"I think that you are wasting your money on a ring. A fake would do, all things considered."

"Do you like this one?"

She stares at the ring. She sighs in relief that he hasn't chosen something princess cut.

"Yes," she admits.

He slips it on her finger. He smiles when he realizes it's a perfect fit. No need for sizing.

"We'll take it, and the matching wedding band to."

"Anything for you?" the jeweler questions.

Ziva smiles she points to a wedding band in the next case, "He'll take that one."

"What is wrong with a plain wedding band?" he questions.

"You pick mine, I pick yours."

"I suppose that's only fair."

They check out. When he gets to the car he pulls the engagement ring out of his pocket. He slips it on her finger.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," she agrees.

"Maybe you should drive."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to make it there before sunset."

"You're going to let me drive?"

"I'll take a benedryl."

"That will knock you out."

"Exactly. I'll be rested, and refreshed when we get there."

"Or cranky, and hungry."

"Do you want to drive, or not?"

She takes the keys from him, and they get out of the car. She slides into the driver's seat. He takes her previously vacated seat. He leans the seat back, and buckles his seatbelt. He closes his eyes.

"Ok, I'm ready."

"You're ridiculous," she comments.

"I'm not the only one."

"No, I guess not," she agrees as she puts the car into drive.

Two and a half hours later she pulls into a parking lot at a hotel. Tony snores in the passenger's seat.

"We're here," she tells him.

He doesn't wake up. She smiles, and jabs him in the rib. He shoots forward. He turns, and looks at her in disgust.

"That was unnecessary."

"Would you have preferred that I left you in the car?"

"No."

"Come one," she insists.

"Coming."

0530 Monday morning- She rolls over, wide awake. Something feels different. She opens her eyes, and looks around. She finds Tony in the bed next to her. He lays sprawled out, on his back. She crawls on top of him.

"Wake up!" she tells him.

"Five more minutes," she argues.

"We have to get up for work."

"I'm tired, we didn't get in until one o'clock this morning."

"That was your fault."

"How was it my fault?"

"You're the one who made us leave the hotel late."

"I am not the only one to blame for that."

"No, maybe not. But you will be the only one to blame, if you're late for work."

He opens his eyes, and looks at her, "Fine. I'm up."

She rolls her eyes, and climbs off him, heading to the bathroom, for a shower. When she gets out of the bathroom she finds him shaving.

"You couldn't wait to do that?" she questions.

"Wait for what?" he wonders as she wraps a towel around herself.

"For me to be done."

"Why would I?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might like to take a shower in privacy?"

"Too bad, we're married now. Besides, you're the one who doesn't want me to be late for work."

"You are the most annoying person I've ever met, in my whole life."

"That is what you like the most. Just be thankful I didn't get in the shower with you."

"You considered it?"

"Yes, but I know how cranky you get when your shower is interrupted."

"I am not the one who gets cranky. You wake up cranky."

"Do we really have to argue about this?"

"We argue about everything," she points out.

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"You're dying."

"Yes I am, but that doesn't mean you have to treat me any differently."

"I should."

"But I don't want you to."

"Ziva..."

"Please. I just want things to be normal, for as long as they can."

"Ok, but you do realize that they aren't going to be, right?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to walk into NCIS with a wedding ring on."

"So are you."

"And we're going to have a lot of explaining to do."

"I'll let you do the explaining."

"Of course you will."

"Just tell the truth. He wouldn't kill someone who is dying."

"What about me?"

"It's a chance you're going to have to take."

"Thanks for your support."

She smiles, "That's my job."


	4. Good Question

They get off the elevator, together. Tony looks both ways, before heading towards the bullpen. Ziva rolls her eyes. They reach their desks. They are the first to arrive. Ziva sinks into her seat. She glances over, at Tony, and finds him twisting his ring.

"Don't even think about it," she warns.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you take it off, you will not have a finger to put it back on."

"What is that supposed to mean."

"If you don't want to wear it on your finger, I'll give you a reason not to."

"You can't cut off my finger."

"There is not a rule against it."

"That doesn't mean that it should be done."

"No, it just means that it can be."

"How would I wear it, if you cut off my finger?"

"My grandmother had a saying."

"I don't speak Hebrew," he reminds her.

"It easily translates. If a man will not wear his ring on his finger, then he can wear it through his nose."

"I am not a bull."

"Would you have preferred matching tattoos?"

"No," he shakes his head.

"Then stop whining."

"This is not a good way to start the day."

"If we wait, you will chicken out."

"Not true."

"I am not in he mood to argue with you, all day, today."

"So then what would you like to talk about?"

She shrugs, "I will let you know."

"And until then?"

"We will allow ourselves to be surrounded by silence."

"I do not do well with silence, Ziva."

"Try."

"I can't make any promises."

The elevator doors open, and McGee steps off. He joins them in the squad room.

He throws his bag on the floor, next to his desk. He smiles.

"How are you two, this morning?"

"I would be better, if my coffee wasn't cold," Tony admits.

"Don't go there," Ziva warns.

"Go where?" McGee questions.

"Nowhere, it's nothing McGee," DiNozzo insists.

"Really? You sound a little bit bitter, Tony."

"I would have preferred to have hot coffee, this morning. That is all."

"You could have drank it while it was hot. No one was stopping you," Ziva tells him.

"I did not want to wear it."

"Why would you wear it?" McGee inquires.

"The morning commute was a little bit rough. The traffic was terrible, and..." he notices the look on Ziva's face, and he stops, mid-sentence.

"And what?" McGee raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Tony shakes his head.

"What is going on with you two, this morning?"

"Nothing," Tony lies.

"Something," McGee disagrees.

"We are fine. My partner is just being whiny, as usual."

"I am not whining. I am simply stating facts. It would have been dangerous for me to try and drink my coffee, on my way here, this morning. It was searing hot. If I had spilled it on myself, I would have gotten third degree burns."

"Do you need a sippy cup?" Ziva mocks him.

"If I am going to ride with you, anymore, I do."

"You rode with Ziva? Why?" McGee's eyes bounce back and forth, between Tony, and Ziva.

"I thought that it would be quicker, if she drove."

"Quicker, from where?"

"That's not important, McQuestion."

"Since when did the two of you start carpooling?"

"We just started today," Tony reveals.

"Why?"

"It is complicated," Ziva dmits.

"Yeah, life is complicated," Gibbs comments as he walks into the room.

He walks past his team, to his desk. He takes a seat at his desk.

"Boss, how do you feel about carpooling?"

"Are you asking me to carpool, McGee?"

"No," he shakes his head, "Tony, and Ziva are carpooling. I'm not sure if I like it or not."

Gibbs looks in their direction, "Why are the two of you carpooling?"

"Apparently so that Tony will stop drinking coffee, because by the time we get here, it's cold," Ziva reveals.

"You let her drive?" Gibbs furrows his brow.

"I was trying to be nice."

"Why?"

"I can be nice, sometimes."

"You can't, but you rarely are. Why are you being nice to her?" Gibbs probes.

"I've turned over a new leaf, I guess."

"Any particular reason?" Gibbs interrogates.

"I think that it will make us more productive. The less we bicker, the better our investigating will be," he lies.

"I doubt it," McGee scoffs.

Without thinking Ziva puts her elbow on the desk. She rests her head on the palm of her hand. Her fingers curl up, next to her face. Gibbs doesn't notice, because his phone rings. McGee, squints, from across the room.

"Grab your gear, we've got a dead Marine," Gibbs announces.

"That's not all we've got," McGee mutters under his breath.

"What was that, McGee?" Gibbs wonders.

"Nothing boss," McGee brushes it off.

"McGee, if you have something to say, then say it."

"We have a mystery, on our hands," McGee answers.

"A mystery? We have a murder. What are you talking about, McGee?"

"This doesn't have to do with a murder victim," McGee admits.

"Then why are you bringing it up?" Gibbs questions.

"I guess the answer can wait, until we're done with the case," McGee decides.

"What is the question?" Gibbs queries.

"Why is Ziva wearing, what appears to be, a wedding ring?" McGee poses the question.


End file.
